Life sometimes makes us stop in the moment and reminds us that the only time we have is that moment. It did it to me recently, while my husband and I were vacationing in Puna, the south-east district of the Big Island.

At the Maku'u Farmers' Market, along the Kea'au/Pahoa Highway bypass road, a mainlander like me had only the present to taste the phantasmagoria of fruits on display, like papayas, soft-spiked rambutans, fluorescent fuchsia dragon fruit. There was no hoarding for further than the near future: most fruit was perfectly ripe and would barely stand the trip back to our lodging. And there was no stashing the luggage with abiu or citrus fruit or rambutan for a delayed enjoyment back home in California, because that fruit could not leave the island in my backpack.1

yellow sapote (bottom left), ross sapote (bottom right)

Hence, a ross sapote (the shape and size of a deep yellow tomato), a yellow sapote (called egg fruit because the consistency of its pulp is reminiscent of hard-boiled egg yolk), a mamey sapote (its scratchy brown skin enveloping salmon-colored flesh), a bagful of brilliant rambutans, a persimmon so ripe it almost fell apart when I touched it, all found a space in my shopping bag.

persimmon (left) and mamey sapote (right)

A papaya, several avocados, a bunch of mini bananas, abius and an assortment of citrus fruits were already in the kitchen of our lodging.

mini bananas and rambutan

A few hours after the expedition to the market, we set out to reach the viewing spot we had visited four years earlier to look from a safe distance at lava emerging from an underground channel and diving into the ocean: After sunset, as the light dimmed, the glow from the lava had set the darkening sky ablaze.

We parked the car where lava flow had put an end to Highway 130 and started walking over the black expanse of natural asphalt sparkling under the afternoon sun. The brilliant blue sky was marbled with light gray clouds ready to congregate into 15-minute showers.

We soon developed a feeling that things were different from our prior visit. When we arrived at a sign that prevented us from proceeding, we found ourselves totally confused. The houses built on the lava field were closer to us than we remembered and the bright yellow stripes on the lava that in the past had guided our steps were nowhere to be seen.

A county security guard arrived and cleared our confusion: a portion of the road we drove on four years ago, the parking lot where we left the car, the lava upon which we walked to reach the viewing area were all gone, covered by the flow from a recent eruption. There, earth is still being born, every day, and the landscape changes at human-scale speed, in fact, at visitor-scale speed.

Under a boundless sky, caressed by a sweet breeze, in a moment of timeless perfection, impermanence was the only certainty and the present was the only time we had to take in the landscape around us. Small clouds of vapour along the ridge towards the main crater were the telltale sign of lava flowing below the surface there. Any day, a crack may open where we were standing and lava may start flowing from there into the Pacific Ocean nearby, pushing everything along its path to plunge it into the blue waves.

But even the stark surface of lava hardened by cool air is not permanent. In time, in the cracks, 'Ama'u ferns unfold their brilliant green fronds and 'Ōhi'a Lehua trees grow, their brush-like red blossoms sparkling against jet black lava (see top photo).2

Later in the afternoon, on the road from Kapoho3 to Pahoa, among handwritten signs posted on trees that ask drivers to slow down for kids at play or invite them to join a yoga class, we read one saying: "It's only a matter of time." Indeed it is.

"Do you know that I love you?" I told my husband.

And once we arrived at our lodging, I took an abiu from the fruit basket, cut it into half and plunged a small spoon into its sweet, translucent pulp, which has a custard consistency and a flavor reminiscent of a lightly sweetened caramel flan. The only time I had was that moment and it tasted superb.

abiu's flavor is superb

A list of fruits I have tasted on the Big Island:

Most of the fruits have such a rich texture that a small portion is all that is needed to satisfy the palate.

Unless otherwise noted, eat the fruit when fully ripe. Cut it into half lengthwise, remove the seed(s) and eat the pulp with a spoon, or diced. Discard the skin (buccia).

Had I had access to an ice cream maker while vacationing in Hawai'i, I would have tried to make a sorbet with some of the fruit. Honestly, though, when I have on my plate half of a perfectly ripe papaya whose cavity is filled with sliced mini bananas, I cannot think of anything better for dessert.

Perfection, by definition, does not need amendment.

dragon fruit (top) and star fruit (bottom)

In the end, I did not taste dragon fruit: I will do it next time (la prossima volta).

1According to USDA regulations, "fresh pineapple and coconut are permitted after inspection. Fresh papaya, abiu, atemoya, banana, curry leaf, dragon fruit, longan, lychee, mangosteen, rambutan, starfruit, and sweet potato are permitted, but must be treated at a USDA-approved facility and packed in boxes that are properly marked and stamped."

2 Hawaiian lava comes in two types, which differ in appearance, but are chemically alike. Pahoehoe has a smoother and ropey surface where 'a'a is jagged and clinkery. The 'Ōhi'a Lehua (Metrosideros polymorpha) is a pioneer plant on new lava and a dominant tree in most mature Hawaiian forests.

Life sometimes makes us stop in the moment and reminds us that the only time we have is that moment. It did it to me recently, while my husband and I were vacationing in Puna, the south-east district of the Big Island.

At the Maku'u Farmers' Market, along the Kea'au/Pahoa Highway bypass road, a mainlander like me had only the present to taste the phantasmagoria of fruits on display, like papayas, soft-spiked rambutans, fluorescent fuchsia dragon fruit. There was no hoarding for further than the near future: most fruit was perfectly ripe and would barely stand the trip back to our lodging. And there was no stashing the luggage with abiu or citrus fruit or rambutan for a delayed enjoyment back home in California, because that fruit could not leave the island in my backpack.1

yellow sapote (bottom left), ross sapote (bottom right)

Hence, a ross sapote (the shape and size of a deep yellow tomato), a yellow sapote (called egg fruit because the consistency of its pulp is reminiscent of hard-boiled egg yolk), a mamey sapote (its scratchy brown skin enveloping salmon-colored flesh), a bagful of brilliant rambutans, a persimmon so ripe it almost fell apart when I touched it, all found a space in my shopping bag.

persimmon (left) and mamey sapote (right)

A papaya, several avocados, a bunch of mini bananas, abius and an assortment of citrus fruits were already in the kitchen of our lodging.

mini bananas and rambutan

A few hours after the expedition to the market, we set out to reach the viewing spot we had visited four years earlier to look from a safe distance at lava emerging from an underground channel and diving into the ocean: After sunset, as the light dimmed, the glow from the lava had set the darkening sky ablaze.

We parked the car where lava flow had put an end to Highway 130 and started walking over the black expanse of natural asphalt sparkling under the afternoon sun. The brilliant blue sky was marbled with light gray clouds ready to congregate into 15-minute showers.

We soon developed a feeling that things were different from our prior visit. When we arrived at a sign that prevented us from proceeding, we found ourselves totally confused. The houses built on the lava field were closer to us than we remembered and the bright yellow stripes on the lava that in the past had guided our steps were nowhere to be seen.

A county security guard arrived and cleared our confusion: a portion of the road we drove on four years ago, the parking lot where we left the car, the lava upon which we walked to reach the viewing area were all gone, covered by the flow from a recent eruption. There, earth is still being born, every day, and the landscape changes at human-scale speed, in fact, at visitor-scale speed.

Under a boundless sky, caressed by a sweet breeze, in a moment of timeless perfection, impermanence was the only certainty and the present was the only time we had to take in the landscape around us. Small clouds of vapour along the ridge towards the main crater were the telltale sign of lava flowing below the surface there. Any day, a crack may open where we were standing and lava may start flowing from there into the Pacific Ocean nearby, pushing everything along its path to plunge it into the blue waves.

But even the stark surface of lava hardened by cool air is not permanent. In time, in the cracks, 'Ama'u ferns unfold their brilliant green fronds and 'Ōhi'a Lehua trees grow, their brush-like red blossoms sparkling against jet black lava (see top photo).2

Later in the afternoon, on the road from Kapoho3 to Pahoa, among handwritten signs posted on trees that ask drivers to slow down for kids at play or invite them to join a yoga class, we read one saying: "It's only a matter of time." Indeed it is.

"Do you know that I love you?" I told my husband.

And once we arrived at our lodging, I took an abiu from the fruit basket, cut it into half and plunged a small spoon into its sweet, translucent pulp, which has a custard consistency and a flavor reminiscent of a lightly sweetened caramel flan. The only time I had was that moment and it tasted superb.

abiu's flavor is superb

A list of fruits I have tasted on the Big Island:

Most of the fruits have such a rich texture that a small portion is all that is needed to satisfy the palate.

Unless otherwise noted, eat the fruit when fully ripe. Cut it into half lengthwise, remove the seed(s) and eat the pulp with a spoon, or diced. Discard the skin (buccia).

Had I had access to an ice cream maker while vacationing in Hawai'i, I would have tried to make a sorbet with some of the fruit. Honestly, though, when I have on my plate half of a perfectly ripe papaya whose cavity is filled with sliced mini bananas, I cannot think of anything better for dessert.

Perfection, by definition, does not need amendment.

dragon fruit (top) and star fruit (bottom)

In the end, I did not taste dragon fruit: I will do it next time (la prossima volta).

1According to USDA regulations, "fresh pineapple and coconut are permitted after inspection. Fresh papaya, abiu, atemoya, banana, curry leaf, dragon fruit, longan, lychee, mangosteen, rambutan, starfruit, and sweet potato are permitted, but must be treated at a USDA-approved facility and packed in boxes that are properly marked and stamped."

2 Hawaiian lava comes in two types, which differ in appearance, but are chemically alike. Pahoehoe has a smoother and ropey surface where 'a'a is jagged and clinkery. The 'Ōhi'a Lehua (Metrosideros polymorpha) is a pioneer plant on new lava and a dominant tree in most mature Hawaiian forests.

To use any of the photographs published in the blog permission must be obtained from Simona
No food was (nor will ever be) discarded in the process of taking the photographs, i.e., everything was consumed either immediately or in due time